


After the War

by CaptainCat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Domestic Bellatrix, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Master/Servant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-01-29 01:26:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21401872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainCat/pseuds/CaptainCat
Summary: Hermione Granger has been a prisoner since the Great War ended.First she was kept in the dark cells of Azkaban, imprisoned by cuffs and chains.Then she was imprisoned by the insane Bellatrix Black, who kept her as a token of the Death Eater's victory.And now, as an opportunity for rebellion and revenge finally arises, Hermione finds herself trapped by her love and loyalty to Bellatrix, and the makeshift family they've created.AU: In 1998 Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters win the Battle of Hogwarts. In 2001 Hermione Granger is freed from Azkaban and given to Bellatrix Lestrange as a reward for her dedication to the Dark Lord. By 2009 Hermione and Bellatrix deeply care for each other,  are raising Bellatrix's nephew, Teddy, and 'playing family' in a dark and menacing world.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Bellatrix Black Lestrange
Comments: 71
Kudos: 256





	1. Eight Years Earlier

**Author's Note:**

> This work explores both Hermione's first year as a captive in Bellatrix's home eight years ago (2001) and their life together in "current" day (2009).
> 
> The chapters titled "Eight Years Earlier" are dark, contain violent scenes of torture, and showcase Bellatrix at her worst. These chapters can read as their own story.
> 
> The chapters titled "Current Day" are lighter. Hermione, though still a prisoner, is much happier than she was eight years ago. These chapters do not contain serious violence, but the master/servant dynamic is present. If you're triggered by violence then I encourage you to read these chapters on their own, as you do not need the 2001 storyline to understand them.
> 
> Of course, this story is best read in its entirety, with the two timelines juxtaposing each other.
> 
> However you choose to engage with this fic - Happy reading! Enjoy!

_"There is nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shore line, no matter how many times it is sent away." _

_\- Sarah Kay_

**November 7, 2001**

“Oh, Muddy, you’re going to love it here!” a sing-song voice rang through the great room, echoing off of ivory statues and gold-framed portraits. Hermione’s eyes darted from one immaculate piece of decor to the next. The room was beautiful, a stunning contrast to the dingy Azkaban cell Hermione had spent the last two years in.

“What shall we show you first? The dungeon perhaps? No, no, I know - your cage!” Hermione’s host jumped with glee as she spoke, her giddy voice juxtaposing the dark words. Hermione imagined that in another life, one where Lord Voldemort hadn’t won the Great War and Hermione hadn’t spent the past year being tortured by wizards and dementors alike, she would’ve been worried for her own fate. But now, fresh from Azkaban and longing to look at anything besides the cold stone walls of her old cell, Hermione found herself more intrigued than scared.

“Aren’t you excited, Muddy?” Her host’s voice shifted from gleeful to annoyed. “Come, come. Tell Mistress how happy you are!”

“I suppose so, actually.” Hermione spoke in earnest. She wasn’t sure what else to say to her… _ Mistress _? She swallowed thickly at that thought.

The older woman circled her, cocking a curious head at Hermione. She looked at Hermione as if she was a specimen in a laboratory.

“Well, aren’t you a surprise, Muddy. Seems you’ve loosened up since our last meeting, hm?” The woman stood still now, only a few inches of heavy air separating her from Hermione. “Has Azkaban helped you learn your place, pet? Or perhaps our last play date was a sufficient reminder?” The woman reached out to grab Hermione’s arm, pulling back Hermione’s sleeve to reveal an old scar. _Mudblood_, it read, having been carved into Hermione’s skin almost three years prior by the very witch who held it now.

“Isn’t it pretty, Muddy? Do you like it?” Bellatrix asked, running a finger over the marking.

Hermione remained silent, allowing Bellatrix to trace the scar for a few moments in silence.

“I’m no fool, you know,” Bellatrix said finally, her hand still tightly wrapped around Hermione’s forearm. “I’m well aware you’re only being obedient because you know what will happen if you don’t behave. But know this, Mudblood -” she leaned in close to Hermione, her lips only centimeters from Hermione’s ear. “You will learn your place. I don’t expect it will be easy for a creature as defiant as you, but eventually you’ll accept that you are nothing more than an _ itty _ . _ Bitty _ . _ Piece _ . _ Of _ . _ Mud _!” The last word popped in Bellatrix’s mouth, followed by a swift flick of her tongue to Hermione’s ear.

Hermione shivered but said nothing. What was there to say? Bellatrix was right. After watching her friends and fellow Order members fade away - both in body and mind - in Azkaban, Hermione knew her only hope was to play along with Bellatrix’s delusions. At least, for now.

“Come now!” Bellatrix clicked her tongue before turning away from Hermione and moving up the stairs. Hermione followed without further direction, trying to absorb information about Bellatrix’s home as she moved. The rich wood walls were lined with portraits, the witches and wizards within their frames muttering threats and insults at Hermione as she passed. Small trinkets of gold and silver sat on every available surface, hinting at the wealth that Hermione knew Bellatrix possessed. It was overwhelming, the amount of sensory information she was taking in. After years of sitting in a grey cell the colours and novelty were giving Hermione a headache. Yet she continued to stare at every item possible, fighting the urge to close her eyes in hopes that some sort of valuable information would leap out at her. While the Death Eaters believed the war to be over, Hermione believed otherwise.

“This,” Bellatrix said with bravado, waving her arms in a grand gesture towards a silver coloured door at the end of the hall. “Is my chambers pet. You’ll be spending most of your time in here, I imagine!”

With a snap of Bellatrix’s fingers, a house elf appeared in the hallway. The creature, wide eyed and snout nosed, bowed to Bellatrix before opening the door to her chambers. Hermione followed Bellatrix as she entered the room.

“Oh, what fun I’ll have with you!” Bellatrix clasped her hands together as she watched Hermione walk into the room.

It was a beautiful chamber. A large four poster bed - bigger than any Hermione had ever seen - with dark green bedding and curtains sat in the middle of the room. There was an ornate fireplace on one wall, so grand that Hermione could feel the heat from the doorway.

And there, on the opposite wall, stood a thick, iron door that looked as if it housed a prison.

“Isn’t it pretty, Muddy?” Bellatrix excitedly jumped towards the door, opening it with a wave of her wand. It was a small room, taking up less than a quarter of Bellatrix’s chamber. It was starkly different from the rest of the space as well - there were no portraits or figurines inside, only plain white walls and wooden floors. As uninviting as it was, it was no Azkaban.

“If you’re a good pet I might even have Tibsey give you a rug to sleep on.” Bellatrix motioned to the house-elf with a laugh. Tibsey bowed in acknowledgement of Bellatrix’s mention.

“Tibsey would be honoured to help Mistress!” Tibsey’s words were said with such enthusiasm they reminded Hermione of Dobby. She frowned, doubting Tibsey would ever experience the freedom the late house elf had.

“Shut it!” Bellatrix snapped at Tibsey, cackling when the elf nodded and covered her mouth with her own hands.

“See that, Muddy? My toys always listen to me. You’ll be the same, soon enough.” Bellatrix tapped Hermione’s nose after speaking, in a way that would’ve felt affectionate if it hadn’t been paired with such disgusting words.

“What’s wrong, pet?” Bellatrix asked when Hermione remained silent. “Are you not excited for your new home with Mistress Bella?” Bellatrix laughed as she poked at Hermione, a sharp nail jabbing Hermione’s cheek. When Hermione still said nothing, Bellatrix screamed: “ANSWER ME!”

“You’re sick.” Hermione said simply. She was too tired to say anything else; her headache was worsening and her body aching. It had been a long time since she had moved so much.

“CRUCIO!”

Hermione should’ve seen it coming. Bellatrix showed now hesitation in casting her signature spell, causing Hermione to fall to the floor, writhing in pain. Hermione felt herself call out in agony, her body convulsing. Then, as suddenly as it had began, it stopped. The pain disappeared completely and Hermione felt at ease.

This was not the first time Hermione had experienced the Cruciatis curse since the war had ended (and she doubted very much it would be the last) but this time was different. Typically after the curse she would be left feeling the aftermath, the lingering pain and soreness that came from such an infliction. But here, on Bellatrix’s bedroom floor, Hermione felt relaxed, as if her body was whole and healed.

Had Bellatrix done that to her?

“Confused, pet?” Bellatrix asked, looking down at Hermione as if she had read her thoughts. Bending over with great showmanship, Bellatrix whispered directly into Hermione’s ear.

“I own you, Mudblood. Everything you experience from this moment on is at my will. If I want you to hurt, you’ll hurt. If I want you to feel good, you’ll feel good. Your body isn’t your own anymore, little girl.”

Hermione shivered, causing Bellatrix to laugh. A grown witch of twenty-two, Hermione hadn’t felt so young and helpless in a long time.

“Such a pretty pet,” Bellatrix mused as she stood. Her eyes were locked onto Hermione’s. “It’s a shame you’re such filth.” She continued to talk - to herself or to Hermione, Hermione wasn’t sure - as she levitated Hermione’s body into the air and towards the now open cage. “If you were a real witch I might’ve courted you. Or just fucked you, who knows. Doesn’t matter though - you and your muddy blood are mine now!”

And with that, Hermione landed on the floor of the caged room, everything going black as Bellatrix closed the door to her new jail.


	2. Current Day

**April 8, 2009**

“Mione! Scorpius called me a Squib!” A whizz of dark blue hair dashed through the Black’s kitchen as young Teddy made his way to Hermione. She was seated at the kitchen table, a cup of tea in hand while she read the most recent copy of the Daily Prophet, completely unprepared for the interruption.

“What’s that?” She asked, not bothering to look up. The headlining title of the Prophet - _ A Death Eater Triumph in Paris! _ \- had Hermione frowning. She hated the news these days.

“Scorpius called me a Squib!” Teddy repeated himself, pouting as if he was a child much younger than ten.

“Why would he say that?” Hermione folded the The Prophet in half before placing it onto the table, her full attention shifting to young Teddy.

“Because I’m almost eleven and still haven’t gotten my letter for Hogwarts!” Teddy was near tears as he spoke, a panic in his voice that Hermione hadn’t heard since he had nightmares as a young boy.

“That’s nonsense. You won’t get your letter until your birthday. Scorpius is behaving like a bully. Ignore him, Ted.” Hermione tried her best to hide her dislike for the Malfoy boy. He was always picking on Teddy.

“Why’re we ignoring the little twat now?” Bellatrix’s voice startled Hermione, causing the younger witch to roll her eyes. She had spent six years living in the same house as Bellatrix, but Bellatrix still managed to sneak up on her without notice.

“Scorpius called our Teddy a squib.” Hermione spoke calmly, hoping Bellatrix would follow her lead.

“HE WHAT?” Bellatrix shrieked, slamming a hand onto the table. Hermione huffed. She should’ve known better.

“He said that I’m a squib because I haven’t gotten my letter from Hogwarts yet!” Teddy’s voice shifted from whining to self-righteousness. Hermione suspected it had something to do with his Aunt Bellatrix’s presence. While Hermione and Bellatrix had both earned the boy’s love over their years raising him, he was always trying to earn Bellatrix’s approval. Hermione supposed it was because she, herself, gave approval much more easily than Bella.

“That vile little brat! Is he here? I’ll kill him.” Bellatrix looked expectantly at Teddy, waiting for directions on how to best attack the offending child.

“No, Aunty. We were talking on the Floo.” Teddy seemed far less upset now, his Aunt’s outrage apparently comforting him.

“Lucky bastard.” Bellatrix muttered, causing Teddy to giggle. 

His Aunt’s outrage was most certainly cheering him up. It was a feeling Hermione understood too well. Bellatrix had a way of taking in the rage of those she cared about, leaving them to feel both validated and protected. It was something Bellatrix frequently did for Hermione, and Hermione was grateful to see her do it for young Teddy as well. Of course, Hermione did wish that Bellatrix would learn to refrain from threatening to kill people in front of Teddy. It didn’t set a good example.

“I don’t suppose this means that you’ll retract his invitation to your party, does it?” Hermione asked Teddy, deciding to take advantage of Bellatrix and Teddy’s anger towards the Malfoy boy. She was hopeful that Teddy would take her up on the suggestion, as Scorpius’ presence in her home meant Draco and Astoria’s presence as well, which was something Hermione could do without.

“Of course it doesn’t!” Bellatrix answered before Teddy could. She had silently moved from the opposite side of the kitchen to where Hermione sat, her hands falling onto Hermione’s shoulders as she stood over her. “We’ll be celebrating Ted’s inevitable acceptance to Hogwarts during the party. That git, Scorpius, ought to be here for that!”

Hermione let out a sharp exhale. Bellatrix knew how she felt about the Malfoys.

“It’s for the good of the boy, pet! You wouldn’t want his only friend to miss his birthday, would you?” Bellatrix laughed as she squeezed Hermione’s shoulder. Though the _ form _ of torture had certainly transformed over the years, Bellatrix’s glee in tormenting Hermione had remained a constant in their relationship.

“I just think that someone who teases you isn’t a true friend,” Hermione tutted, eyeing Teddy.

“No offense pet, but you aren’t exactly known for your choice in friends. Hanging out with half-bloods, blood traitors, and that disgusting _ Potter _. Tsk, tsk” Bellatrix winked at Teddy as she spoke, who grinned at his aunt’s teasing. Though he didn’t fully understand Bellatrix and Hermione’s relationship, he knew enough to realize that Bellatrix was the one in charge,

“And what, exactly, are you two then?” Hermione challenged. She was taking advantage of Teddy’s presence, knowing Bellatrix would never raise her wand against Hermione in front of him.

“Just because we live with a filthy mudblood doesn’t make us blood traitors,” Teddy retorted with arrogance. He was normally a well mannered child but as he approached puberty Hermione found him to be quick to challenge authority - especially Hermione’s, who was arguably the closest thing he had to a mother these days.

She was about to reprimand him for the foul language and disrespect when Bellatrix’s signature shrill filled the room.

“WHAT DID YOU SAY, BOY?” Bellatrix had vanished from her place behind Hermione; she now stood directly over Teddy, strong fingers clenching his jaw.

“I… I… I didn’t mean it, Aunty!” Teddy stuttered his response, his eyes wide.

“You sneaky little brat!” Bellatrix spat out her words. “How dare you insult _ my _ possession in _ my _ home! You ungrateful little -”

“Enough!” Hermione interrupted Bellatrix’s rant, standing to make her point. “Teddy, that was uncalled for. Apologize to me.”

Bellatrix released Teddy’s chin from her grasp, a grimace on her face. “Now, boy!” she slapped the back of his head, waiting for Teddy to comply with Hermione’s request.

“I’m sorry, Mione. I shouldn’t have called you filthy. I know you’re one of the good mudbloods because you know your place, and you help purebloods. I’m sorry.”

Hermione forced herself to smile. No matter how comfortable she was living with Bellatrix these days (and as the witch’s _ possession, _as Bella so eloquently phrased it, no less) she would never be comfortable with how Bellatrix taught Teddy to think of muggleborns.

“Apology accepted.” Hermione said, knowing she had no real choice in the matter. “Why don’t you go finish writing invitations? You still haven’t invited your Aunt Narcissa to your party.”

Teddy nodded, his hair transforming from deep blue to bright orange as he left the room.

“He’s a brat.” Bellatrix said once he was out of earshot. She was suddenly behind Hermione again, who had remained standing since her small outburst.

Bellatrix wrapped her arms around Hermione’s waist and leaned in to kiss her neck. It was a nice feeling, but Hermione wasn’t in the mood for Bellatrix’s advances. Her mind was racing - jumping between the implications of the Daily Prophet article she had been reading and Teddy’s disappointing words.

“He’s copying you,” Hermione replied, taking advantage of Bellatrix’s apparent good mood. While Bellatrix hadn’t truly hurt Hermione in years, Hermione knew it was because she had learned to play Bellatrix’s game of power, making only the smallest grasps for control when it was safe to do so.

“Oh?” Bellatrix hummed before biting lightly at Hermione’s ear.

“Calling me a filthy mudblood. He’s only doing it because he’s heard you say it to me.”

It was Bellatrix’s turn to be silent now. She tightened her grip on Hermione’s waist, continuing to nibble on her neck as if she hadn’t heard her.

“Bella, please. I’m not in the mood.”

Bellatrix relented, placing a final kiss to Hermione’s cheek before stepping back and releasing Hermione completely.

“He’s got to learn his responsibility as a Pureblood, pet. You know that.” Bellatrix replied, her voice exasperated. It was a discussion they'd had many times. “Besides, he seemed to realize he shouldn’t insult you like that. If you’re really upset about it I can give him a real consequence, besides having to say _ sowwy _.”

Bellatrix settled into the chair at the head of the table as she spoke, plopping her feet onto the table’s fine oak top. Hermione rolled her eyes. Sometimes she felt like she was raising two children, not just one.

“Saying sorry _ is _a consequence,” Hermione retorted, pushing Bellatrix’s feet off of the table’s top. She had just cleaned it. “One that you could do to learn, come to think of it.”

“Hardly,” Bellatrix laughed, placing her feet back onto the table before grabbing Hermione’s copy of _ The Prophet _.

“Oooh,” She exclaimed, reading over the _ Death Eater Triumph in Paris _headline. “Reading about the good news were you, pet?”

“Oh yes. I’m just thrilled that Merlin-knows how many people died in Paris so that Lucius could impress Voldemort.” Hermione rolled her eyes.

“He’s more of a git than his grandson,” Bellatrix snickered. She had been annoyed when she first learned that he was leading the Death Eater movement in France. It was an honour that was far beneath the likes of Lucius Malfoy, in Bellatrix's opinion. “The Dark Lord knows that, don’t worry pet. Still, it makes things easier for me overseas.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow. She knew Bellatrix had been involved in some of the Death Eater’s international plans, but she hadn't been privy to the where or how.

“Overseas?” She asked, feigning innocence.She always did this - spoke with naivety and curiosity - when Bellatrix mentioned her work with Voldemort and the Death Eaters.

“Don’t play dumb, pet, it’s not becoming.” Bellatrix replied, rolling her feet off of the table and onto the floor. She stood, placing a quick kiss on Hermione’s forehead as she walked away.

“I just hadn’t heard you mention anything about working in overseas before,” Hermione commented, watching as Bellatrix moved headed towards the kitchen’s fireplace. Hermione imagined there was some sort of Death Eater meeting she needed to attend. That’s all Bella seemed to do these days.

“So smart, yet so naive.” Bellatrix teased. “You’ll know everything one day, pet. For now, be a good girl and make sure that the boy finishes his invitations.I expect that you and the elves will outdo that garbage Cissy arranged for Scorpius’s last party, and I want her here to see it.”

Hermione laughed. It was amusing to see Bellatrix’s competitive streak shine through for something as normal as a child’s birthday party.

“Yes, Mistress.” Hermione replied, a teasing tone to the familiar phrase. Bellatrix smirked, making a show of blowing Hermione a kiss goodbye before stepping into the fireplace and disappearing in a puff of green flames.

Hermione remained at the table for a few moments, until she was sure that Bellatrix was gone. She could never be too careful these days - Bellatrix had formed a recent habit of returning home abruptly, claiming to have forgotten an item in the manor. Hermione couldn't be sure, but the paranoid part of her brain suspected that the older witch was checking in on her. While she certainly had more freedoms than she used to, Bella was not willing to completely let go of her control over Hermione.

Feeling confident that Bella was gone for good, Hermione headed towards the broom closet on the far side of the kitchen. It was only ever used by her the house elves, making it a safe place for Hermione’s hidden treasure.

Quietly opening the door, she stepped inside. Bellatrix did not permit her to carry a wand, so Hermione was left squint in the darkness as she searched for her hiding spot on the top shelf of the broom cupboard.

Her hand moving blindly over a collection of items, smiling when it finally landed on a small leather book and quill. She pulled them downwards, hastily opening the book to the most recent page.

_ Bellatrix working overseas. April 8 2009. _ She wrote the sentence as quickly as she could, the concise words filling up the last line on an already full page. The other lines were all similar, outlining every tidbit of information Bellatrix let slip about the Death Eaters, Voldemort, and the war efforts with other wizarding nations. It was Hermione’s secret version of a penseive, holding every potentially valuable piece of information she had learned since coming into Bellatrix’s possession eight years ago. Hermione wasn’t sure if she would ever have the chance to share her knowledge, but she wanted to be prepared just in case.

Grinning as she closed the door to the broom closet and headed back to the kitchen table, Hermione wondered just how naive Bellatrix would think her if she knew her secret.


	3. Eight Years Earlier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: Torture, Abuse, Fire Play, Talk of Death

**November 12, 2001**

Hermione spent any free time Bellatrix allotted her in the older witch’s bedroom, curled up in front of the fireplace. It was the only fire in the mansion that Bellatrix bothered to light, and Hermione couldn’t keep herself away from it. Azkaban had been so dreadfully cold that when Hermione found herself alone she did whatever she could to keep her mind off of the damned place. Bellatrix didn’t seem to trust her with much yet, which Hermione understood, but the Death Eater still offered small mercies. Time in front of the fireplace was one of them.

“I did that too, you know, after my escape.” Bellatrix appeared as if from apparition, suddenly standing beside Hermione without so much as the floor creaking. Hermione wasn’t sure how yet, but she knew the witch had a way of tiptoeing around the manor without making a sound. 

“I never kept my fires contained to such pitiful cages though,” Plopping down to sit on the floor beside Hermione, Bellatrix continued. “I liked to play with the heat.” She waved her hand, causing a small waft of fire to brush Hermione’s face. The flame burned for a moment, feeling no different than a sunlight against her cold skin, before vanishing.

“Rodolphus would curse at me. He hated the heat, the boring bastard.” Bellatrix laughed now, tilting her head back to airily stare at the ceiling as she spoke.

“Where is he, anyway?” Hermione showed no fear in questioning Bellatrix. She had learned quickly during the past few days with Bellatrix that the best way to avoid torture - or what Bellatrix lovingly called _ training _\- was to keep Bellatrix talking.

“Dead, thank Merlin.” Bellatrix responded, swirling her wand around to draw a trail of fire in the air above them.

“Do you miss him?” Hermione asked, trying to keep the conversation going.

Bellatrix cackled. “I’d hope not considering I killed him.”

“You… what?” Hermione turned to look at Bellatrix, who was now nonchalantly laying on her back, propped up by a single elbow. Her wand arm directed the trail of fire through the air until it formed a small ball of fire.

“I killed him.” Bellatrix said simply, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. She crooked her head while she spoke, watching her fireball make contact with a small figurine on the fireplace. It was a Hungarian Horntail, and for a moment - as Bellatrix’s fireball reached its head - it looked as if it was breathing fire. “Rodolphus was always annoying me. Constantly telling me to _ be careful. _ Can you imagine? A _ Lestrange _ , telling me, a _ Black _, what to do?”

Bellatrix cackled again, a raucous scream of laughter escaping her mouth at her own suggestion. The Hungarian Horntail was beginning to smoulder, leaving a small waft of smoke in the air.

“No, no, I couldn’t have that now, could I, Muddy?” Bellatrix posed her words as a question but Hermione knew better than to answer. “Besides, he was a lousy fighter and even lousier fuck. What use did I have for him?”

Despite the warmth of the fire Hermione felt herself shiver.

“What? Not so keen on killing mates, pet? Ah well, I suppose that’s lucky for me!” Bellatrix laughed at her own joke. “Speaking of which - we have some work to do, Muddy!” Bellatrix rolled onto her stomach, looking up at Hermione with a giddy smile. Her whole body seemed to be full of excitement as she rocked back and forth, kicking her legs in a manner that, if Hermione didn’t know the witch better, she would’ve described as childlike.

“Of course, Mistress.” Hermione said with a solemn nod. It was the only response that was accepted, that would keep Bellatrix’s love for the Cruciatus Curse at bay.

“Ah, such a good girl! You learn so quickly, Muddy!” Bellatrix’s voice was shrill with joy. “Since you’ve been such a good girl I have a surprise for you!”

Hermione held her breath. Something told her she wasn’t going to like this surprise.

“You, my pretty little Mudblood, get to play a _ game _!" Bellatrix exclaimed, a smirk making its way across her lips. 

“What’s the game?” Hermione asked, cautiously trying to prepare herself for whatever torture Bellatrix had in mind.

“A get-to-know-you game. Won’t that be fun, Muddy?” Bellatrix grinned. “Cissy loved those games. We played them at every dinner party she ever hosted. Not that they helped cure the boredom from her insufferable husband.”

Hermione watched Bellatrix’s excitement, trying to think of something else to ask the Death Eater to prolong the conversation. Bellatrix, for her part, seemed happy to continue rambling without any prompting from Hermione.

“Don’t worry though, pet. Our game will be a lot more fun!” Bellatrix moved from the floor to the chair that sat beside the fireplace, snapping her fingers as she stood.

Apparating from thin air, Tibsey appeared in the room, her small body folded into a bow.

“Tibsey is here, Mistress! May Tibsey please have the honour of helping Mistress?”

“You can start by fetching me and the pet some wine. Then you can stay for our game.”

Tibsey disappeared for only a second, reappearing quicker than Hermione could blink.

“Here is the wine, Mistress! May Tibsey please pour Mistress and her pet some drinks?” Tibsey spoke as if she was overjoyed to perform such a simple task.

Bellatrix waved her arm carelessly, unfazed by Tibsey’s excitement. “Why else would I have you fetch the wine, idiot? Yes, serve the damn drinks and then shut up. I’ve heard more than enough of you for one day.”

Tibsey eagerly poured two glasses of red wine, handing one to Hermione who remained seated on the floor, and one to Bellatrix who sat in the large chair besides the fireplace.

“Cheers, Muddy!” Bellatrix said raising her cup. Hermione followed suit, enjoying the sweet taste of cherries as she took her first sip. Bellatrix had been feeding her well, with Tibsey bringing Hermione a variety of meats and vegetables every day, but the sweetness of the wine was a special treat.

“Is Mistress Bella's pretty pet ready to play?” Bellatrix asked. She tilted her goblet, casually stirring the wine in her cup.

“Yes, Mistress.” Hermione replied, feeling warm heat rise to her cheeks. Was she blushing or was it the wine? Hermione wasn’t entirely sure.

“Good girl. I’m going to ask you some questions, pet, and you’re going to answer them. That should be an easy enough game for a smart girl, hm?” Bellatrix’s grin implied that the game was going to be anything but easy. “Just one thing love - you should know that you've drank some truth serum, just to be sure you’re telling me the truth.”

Hermione blanched, angry with herself for not realizing Bellatrix must have ulterior motives to supply her with wine. Though, she supposed her own naivity didn’t matter. Even if she hadn’t drank the wine willing she was certain Bellatrix would’ve forced her to play the game some other way.

“Veritaserum?” Hermione asked, knowing the power of the truth serum she named.

“Not quite. I thought it best to use something you’d be unfamiliar with.” Bellatrix sipped her own wine now, pulling her goblet away from her mouth to reveal bright red, wine stained lips. “Anything you say to me tonight will have to be honest, otherwise you'll find yourself unable to speak. You can also choose not to answer my questions, pet, if you so wish.”

Hermione frowned, doubting that Bellatrix would let her get away with such a caveat.

“Of course, if you don’t answer then poor Tibsey here is going to get a bit of this -” Bellatrix pointed her wand at the house elf, who remained bowed in the corner of the room. With a quick "Crucio!" the house elf fell to the ground_, _her tiny body convulsing with pain.

Hermione cried out “No!”, dropping her wine to the floor in a moment of panic. She moved to stand, to see if Tibsey was okay, but Bellatrix’s outstretched hand on her shoulder stopped her.

“Not so fast! Did I give you permission to stand?”

“No, Mistress.” Hermione froze in her kneel, halfway between sitting and standing.

“I didn’t think so. Sit back down.”

Hermione did as she was told and took a seat, her eyes never leaving Tibsey’s still body.

Bellatrix followed her gaze, eventually screaming at the elf

“Stand up, you stupid creature! Address me properly!”

Tibsey did as Bellatrix commanded, standing slowly. Her wide eyes were filled with tears. Hermione felt her heart break with empathy for the house elf.

“Tibsey is thankful, Mistress Black! Yes, so thankful for your kind attention! Tibsey isn’t worthy of Mistress Black’s magic, no she isn’t!" Tibsey’s words joyful, leaving Hermione’s stomach to turn.

“That’s barbaric!” Hermione said, turning to face Bellatrix from where she sat. 

Bellatrix simply cackled in response. “That’s life, pet! Besides, it’s up to you if poor, itty, bitty Tibsey gets tickled by Crucio again. If you’d rather not watch the runt vibrate then I suggest you answer my questions. Understood?”

“Yes, Mistress.” Hermione levelled her voice, now aware of the stakes in this so-called gamed.

“Good girl,” Bellatrix praised, leaning back in her chair. “First question - Where’s Harry Potter?”

“Dead.” Hermione replied. Harry had died years ago, in the Forbidden Forest during the Battle of Hogwarts. Surely Bellatrix knew that?

“Was that so hard?” Bellatrix chuckled. “Next question - Where’s the rest of the Order?”

“Azkaban,” Hermione said. Was this an interrogation? Did the Death Eaters believe the Order to still be at large? Hermione’s mind was suddenly racing with questions and possibilities.

“Are you a virgin?”

“I - Yes.” Hermione was not expecting that question.

Bellatrix beamed. “How many boys have you kissed?”

“Three,” Hermione said. Viktor, Cormac, and Ron. Hermione forced herself to block out the emotions that came with the last name. The last time she saw Ron was when they had been brought to Azkaban together as _ Undesirable No 2 _ and _ Undesirable No 3 _. She wondered if he was still alive.

“And how many girls?” Bellatrix leaned forward as she asked this question, her grin spreading from ear to ear.

“None.” Hermione said. It wasn’t that she hadn’t thought about it before. There was Fleur, who was beautiful and smart, and had been so kind to Hermione when Viktor turned out to be an utter ass. And then Tonks, who sparked a curiosity in Hermione she hadn't experienced before. But it was never something she could explore. Not when the wizarding world was at war and people like Bellatrix wanted her dead.

“Pity,” Bellatrix said with a fake pout. “Would you like to kiss me?”

“No.” Hermione said frankly, leaving Bellatrix to pout some more. Hermione had heard rumors - whispers, really - of what kinds of activities Bellatrix partook in with female captives from the war. Hermione had been prepared for it, to hand her body over to Bellatrix to have her way with, but so far the Death Eater had yet to lay a finger on her. That is to say, except to punish her.

“Was Ollivander a part of the Order? A part of the resistance?” Bellatrix asked, her mood switching from playful to serious.

“He… I…” Hermione stammered for a moment, unsure how to answer. Ollivander had helped Harry, but he hadn’t exactly attended an Order meeting. In fact, he wasn’t someone Hermione had really bothered to think of until Bellatrix brought him up. Was he still alive? Did Voldemort throw him in Azkaban? _ Would _Voldemort throw him in Azkaban if Hermione answered the question?

“Tick-tock, pretty! Time’s up!” Bellatrix interrupted Hermione’s thoughts with a flick of her wand and a loud “CRUCIO” directed at Tibsey.

“No!” Hermione shouted, scrambling towards the house elf’s now-convulsing body. “She didn’t do anything wrong! Stop!”

Bellatrix cackled at Hermione’s distress.

“Crucio! Crucio! CRUCIO!” Bellatrix yelled, flicking her wand repeatedly at Tibsey, whose body moved so violently Hermione was sure she would die.

“Bellatrix, stop! Please! I’ll answer you! Just STOP!”

Bellatrix laughed before lunging from her chair, her body moving faster than anything Hermione had seen before. When she reached Hermione and Tibsey she reached out to the witch, grabbing Hermione by her hair and pulling her away from the house elf.

Hermione felt tears brimming in her eyes. It was too much; the sharp pain at the root of her hair, the ache in her back as she was dragged, and the horror of seeing the lifeless Tibsey sprawled on the floor before her.

“You, Mudblood, do not get to _ negotiate _ with me!” Bellatrix’s voice was shrill, her echo ringing through Hermione’s head as the younger witch held back a sob. “You are my property. You do as I say, when I say it. What part of that do you not understand?”

Bellatrix released Hermione’s hair only to kick her in the stomach, causing Hermione to double over in pain.

“I’m sorry!” Hermione found herself sobbing as she spoke, no longer able to hold back the tears. “I’m sorry, please!”

“Stupid girl,” Bellatrix said, hovering over Hermione. Hermione had never felt so small or pathetic before.

“I’m sorry,” Hermione repeated, trying to catch her breath between sobs. She just wanted this to be over, for Bellatrix to tire of her and leave her alone.

“That’s not good enough.” Bellatrix lowered herself, straddling Hermione. “Do you know what you’ve done? By disobeying your Mistress?”

Hermione shook her head, silent tears now running from her eyes as she tried to calm herself down.

“You’ve hurt my feelings, Muddy. Made me think I can’t trust you to be a good pet!” Bellatrix’s voice was full of false sadness, causing Hermione’s stomach to curl. Hermione had never hated someone so much as she hated Bellatrix in that moment.

“I’m sorry, Mistress.” Hermione said, swallowing her pride and playing into Bellatrix's ridiculous show.

“You’re going to have to prove it, pet. Are you ready to listen to me?”

Hermione nodded, her eyes focused on the ground. She hated her. Absolutely hated her.

“Good girl. How can the mudblood prove her loyalty to her Mistress, Tibsey?”

Hermione’s head perked up as Bellatrix spoke the house elf’s name. She had been so sure that Tibsey was dead.

“Tibsey doesn’t know, Mistress. Tibsey is not smart enough to think of such things, Mistress.” The house elf replied with the same tone as always, causing Hermione to sigh in relief. Tibsey stood in the very spot she had been when Bellatrix had Crucio’d her. Though the elf _looked_ awful, she was very much alive.

“At least the elf smart enough to know it’s place, isn’t that right, pet?” Bellatrix laughed to Hermione, reaching down to wipe the tears from Hermione’s cheek. Bellatrix’s hand was soft and comforting, a welcome break from the violent touches of the past few minutes.

Hermione nodded, not fully paying attention to anything besides the gentle hand on her cheek.

“Let’s see,” Bellatrix said, her hand sliding from Hermione’s cheek to her chin. She held Hermione’s head in her hand for a moment before jumping up in excitement. “Yes, I know! Crawl to the fireplace for your Mistress, pet!

Hermione did as she was told, hastily crawling towards the fireplace until her hands made contact with the hot stone of fireplace’s hearth. Her obedience earned an excited clap from Bellatrix.

“Good girl! Now touch it.”

Hermione was certain she had misheard. Certainly Bellatrix didn’t expect her to touch a burning fire.

“_Touch it, pet. _” Bellatrix repeated the order through clenched teeth, her mood switching from playful to irate in a matter of seconds.

Hermione closed her eyes. She knew that Tibsey would not survive another Crucio spell. Without further hesitation, she stretched out her hand and it placed it into the fire.

The heat was immediate; A sharp sting to her skin, unlike any Hermione had felt before. Her first instinct was to remove her hand from the flame, but somehow her brain was working fast enough to know if she did things would get worse. Instead she used her free hand to steady her arm. In her mind she retreated to a place she frequently imagined while in Azkaban - the library of her childhood school. She tried to recall the books that had lined the shelves, listing as many Muggle authors as she could while waiting for the moment to pass.

_ Roald Dahl. _ The fire sizzled against her hand. _ A.A.Milne. _She gritted her teeth. _J.M.Barrie. _The heat was intolerable. _ C.S.Lewis. _ “Stop, pet.” _ Shel Silverstein. _ “That’s enough, pet!” _ E.B.White _“HERMIONE!”

Bellatrix broke Hermione’s thoughts, pulling her backwards from the fireplace. Before Hermione could comprehend what was happening something blue poured from Bellatrix’s wand, wrapping itself around Hermione’s burning hand and calming the flame.

“Bloody hell. Is the itty bitty muddy insane? Is that it? You’ve lost your mind already?” Bellatrix’s voice was quite unlike anything Hermione had ever heard before. She sounded concerned.

“I -” Hermione wasn’t sure how to answer. The truth serum was still fizzing inside her stomach. She wasn’t entirely sure what had just happened. “I just did as you said.”

In that moment, the skin on Hermione’s hand started to sting. Burns, she remembered, often took a few minutes before the pain kicked in. 

Hermione’s eyes pooled with tears again, and she felt herself yell out in pain. Was this Bellatrix’s plan? Have Hermione blindly follow an order and then wither in pain at her feet, as if under s self-inflicted Cruciatus?

“You stupid girl,” Bellatrix muttered, kneeling down to sit beside Hermione again. She grabbed Hermione’s burnt hand and made quick work of healing it, tracing a long finger against Hermione’s palm. Bellatrix spoke rapidly, reciting incantations Hermione could barely hear. Years from now, Hermione would look back on this moment with awe and appreciation - Bellatrix’s ability to heal with wandless magic was an impressive skill.

As Bellatrix worked her magic, she wrapped an arm around Hermione’s shoulders, gently pulling Hermione into her embrace. Hermione felt her entire body relax as she leaned into Bellatrix. She knew that Bellatrix was likely just toying with her - giving her momentary kindness to confuse her more when she tortured her again - but she couldn’t help but revel in the touch. She was so tired; so exhausted; and Bellatrix’s warm body was so comforting, that Hermione found herself ready to sleep. 

“There, there, pet. That should do it.” Bellatrix gave a final squeeze to Hermione’s hand before releasing it. 

“Thank you,” Hermione said, unsure how else to respond. This was the first time in years that someone was so gentle with her.

Bellatrix didn’t reply, but instead pulled away from Hermione. She stood in a swift motion, leaving Hermione alone on the floor.

“Crawl to your cage, pet,” she said with her back to Hermione, walking towards the door and out of sight. “Playtime’s done for the night.”


	4. Current Day

**April 21, 2009**

Bellatrix was seething. She was seated in the armchair closest to the fireplace in her and Hermione’s bedroom, her lips forming a thin line of disappointment as her eyes locked on Hermione’s.

“Take it back,” She demanded, as self-righteous as ever.

Hermione laughed. She was across the room from Bella, seated on their four-poster bed with an array of half-wrapped gifts around her. They were all for Teddy, to celebrate his eleventh birthday and acceptance to Hogwarts. Every gift was wrapped in green or silver, a colour scheme that Bellatrix had selected despite Hermione’s protests.

“I’m just saying,” Hermione replied, her focus returning to the gifts as she knotted an elegant bow around a box of_ Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans_. “He might not be sorted into Slytherin. He’s smart. He’s caring. He’s courageous… He’ll do well in any house.”

“Absolutely not. He’s my nephew, and he’s a Black. Any Black worth remembering has been a Slytherin.”

“You’re being unreasonable,” Hermione sighed, securing the wrapping paper on another present. It was a copy of _ Hogwarts: A History,_ purchased by Bellatrix on Hermione's behalf, as she insisted that Teddy receive a copy before leaving for school.

“I suppose you’d have him sorted into Gryffindor?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “That or Hufflepuff.”

“No!” 

Hermione hid a grin as she pretended to be absorbed in her wrapping. Sometimes it was fun to get a rise out of Bella. She was feeling quite smug with herself when suddenly the ribbons on the bed rose upwards, wrapping themselves in Hermione’s hair and yanking her head in different directions.

“Stop it!” Hermione huffed, swatting at the ribbons. Bellatrix laughed but obliged, lowering her wand and leaving the ribbons to fall aimlessly back to the bed.

“Sorry, pet. Couldn’t help myself. You just look so pretty with ribbons in your hair.” Bellatrix cooed, leaving Hermione to half-heartedly throw a pillow in her general direction.

It missed, but Bellatrix shrieked as if she had been slapped.

“How dare you?!” She raged, mock fury filling the room. Bellatrix launched out of the armchair.

“I’m sorry,” Hermione could barely breathe out her apology before Bellatrix was on top of her, grabbing her wrists and pressing her backwards onto the mattress of their shared bed.

“You better be,” Bella warned.

Bellatrix’s entire body was on top of her, weighing Hermione down into the feathers of the mattress. Bending downward, Bellatrix pressed her lips to Hermione’s, earning a muffled moan from the younger witch as she leaned up to return the kiss.

“Tell me how sorry you are,” Bellatrix instructed, the words tickling Hermione’s skin.

“Very sorry, Bella” Hermione struggled to free her arms as she spoke. Bellatrix didn’t fight back, instead allowing Hermione to pull her left arm from her grasp. Immediately Hermione’s fingers found their way to Bellatrix’s hair, pulling her into Hermione for a second kiss.

“Good girl,” Bellatrix’s words, murmured between kisses, left Hermione with the familiar feeling of butterflies in her stomach. Sliding her hand from Bellatrix’s hair to her neck, Hermione kissed her harder, fighting for control in what was now an all-too-familiar battle.

“Tibsey would like to tell Mistress and the pet something! Tibsey has news of the party’s guests!”

Hermione blinked, caught off guard by the sudden interruption. Bellatrix - who had always been able to change her moods much more swiftly than Hermione - had managed to grab her wand and shoot a series of harmless sparks at the House Elf, who had appeared from thin air into their bedroom. Tibsey squealed but remained in place by the foot of their bed.

“Who’s here, Tibsey?” Hermione asked, realizing what was going on as Bellatrix rolled off of her. The Death Eater landed on her back with a groan.

“If it’s Cissy you can tell her to entertain herself. We’re busy.”

“It is Mistress Narcissa and others, Mistress Black! Master Lucius, Master Draco, Mistress Astoria, Master Scor-” Tibsey listed the members of the Malfoy family, counting them off on long whittled fingers, until Bellatrix cut her off.

“Oh good, Cissy has brought her entire disgrace of a family to my home. How exciting!” Bellatrix rolled her eyes before sitting up.

“Not just the Malfoys, Mistress!” Tibsey squeaked. “There is also Master Avery, Master Walden, Mistress Genevi-”

“Thank you, Tibsey. We get the picture.” Hermione said kindly, cutting Tibsey off before Bellatrix could curse the elf into silence. Bellatrix, for her part, seemed unfazed. She had moved from the bed to the vanity table to examine her now unkempt reflection.

“Shall Tibsey help with the wrapping?” Tibsey asked Hermione, her eyes wide and excited as she pointed at the mess of presents on the bed. 

Bellatrix scoffed. “Absolutely not,” she replied flicking her wand and directing her own magic towards the gifts; Within seconds they were all wrapped perfectly and floating out of the room in the direction of the party. “Teddy is a wizard now. He doesn’t need Elf magic contaminating his gifts.”

“Of course, Mistress Black. Tibsey shouldn’t have said anything. Tibsey is so stupid! So, so stupid!” Much to Hermione’s dismay the house-elf began to hit her head against the four-poster bed.

“It’s okay, Tibsey. You can make up for it by ensuring the guests are taken care of. Bella and I will be downstairs soon.”

“May Tibsey obey the pet, Mistress?” Tibsey turned her attention to Bellatrix, who was caught up in her own reflection. The older witch was waving her wand along her lips, fixing the smeared lipstick Hermione had made a mess of moments earlier. She seemed oblivious to Tibsey’s outburst.

“Sure, sure,” Bellatrix replied, too distracted to confirm what Hermione had said.

Tibsey bowed, needing no further instruction, and apparated out of the room.

“Stand up, pet,” Bellatrix said finally. With her make-up returned to its previous place, she shifted her attention to Hermione. “Let me fix you.”

Hermione stood, trying her best to unwrinkle her robes in the process. Bellatrix’s wand made quicker work, a flash of pink swirls causing any signs of their time on the bed to disappear.

Bellatrix flicked her wand one last time, levitating a final touch to Hermione's outfit: a thick black choker made of velvet, with a large emerald in the center. A round, silver charm with the engravement “Property of B.Black” dangled from the green stone.

“Subtle.” Hermione rolled her eyes. Truthfully she wasn't bothered by the necklace. Hopefully it would ensure that the other Death Eaters left her alone.

“You look pretty, pet.” Bellatrix ignored Hermione’s sarcasm. “Come. Let’s go show you off.”

**_____________**

The party was unexpectedly lively. The ballroom, a large ornate hall that Hermione and Bella rarely used, was draped with fabrics of Hogwarts houses. Couples danced beneath a bewitched night-sky that reminded Hermione of the Great Hall at Hogwarts. A trio of wizards used their wands to direct an array of pianos and mandolins in the corner, filling the usually silent space with melody. Children ran about the room while house-elves squeakily navigated their way through a forest of knees, balancing heavy platters of food and wine as they walked.

Hermione couldn’t help but wonder if every single Death Eater, plus their spouses and children, were currently in her home. She had never seen so many people in one place before. At least not since her time at Hogwarts, but that was an entire lifetime ago.

“Look sharp, pet. There’s some rubbish headed this way.” Bellatrix, whose arm was wrapped securely around Hermione’s waist glared at a blonde couple walking towards them.

“Aunty,” the male said, smiling at Bellatrix. “Mudblood,” He added with a wink at Hermione.

“What do you want, Draco?” Bellatrix asked, her impatience clear from her tone. Hermione was fortunate enough to only see Draco once or twice a year - typically during holidays or birthdays, when Bellatrix gave in to Narcissa’s constant requests for family gatherings. It was never a pleasant encounter. Draco enjoyed taunting Hermione too much for hers and Bellatrix’s liking.

“Can’t a nephew wish to speak to his favourite aunt?” Draco sounded as charming as ever. His wife, Astoria, giggled at his side. Hermione frequently wondered if he had silenced the woman with a tongue-tied spell, since Hermione had known her for years but had yet to hear her speak.

Bellatrix echoed Astoria’s laughter, her own laugh much more mocking. “You’re almost as charming as your father,” Bellatrix cooed at Draco, the words clearly meant as an insult. It was common knowledge that Bellatrix and Lucius didn’t get along.

“Yes, well, there is a matter I need to discuss with you, Aunty.” Draco allowed Bella’s comment to go unanswered before turning his attention to Hermione. “Go fetch us some drinks, Mudblood. This conversation isn’t for your ears.”

“I think she’d rather stay with me.” Bellatrix interrupted, tightening her grip on Hermione’s waist. Hermione remained silent. What she really wanted was for this conversation to be over.

“Who cares what it prefers?” Draco laughed. “Go get us some drinks, Mudblood. Then you can crawl back to my Aunty’s shadow for the night if it pleases her.”

Hermione looked to Bellatrix for direction. She hadn’t been involved in a power struggle of this nature before, but knew exactly who she planned to obey if it came down to Bellatrix’s word against Draco’s.

“Are you daft, boy? The Mudblood will be staying by my side tonight. If the Dark Lord ever deems you important enough to be given a Mudblood of your own then you can boss it around as you wish, but this one is _ mine _.” There was venom in Bellatrix’s words, and Hermione found herself mentally thanking Melin that Voldemort had given her to Bella and not someone like Draco.

Draco was much less impressed by Bellatrix’s words. He looked as if he had just been slapped.

“We’ll discuss things later then, _ Aunty _.” He said after a moment. “Come, Astoria, let’s go say hello to Mother.”

“Stupid child,” Bellatrix snipped, not bothering to wait for Draco and Astoria to be out of earshot.

“He’s the same age as me, you know.” Hermione reminded her, a tone of disapproval in her voice. Despite the nagging tone she wasn’t upset. How could she be after the older witch saved her from being Draco Malfoy’s errand girl for the evening?

“Yes, but you don’t behave like a spoiled child. At least not in public.” Bellatrix laughed at her own joke before nipping at Hermione’s ear.

“Very funny.” Hermione tutted, unable to stop herself from grinning. It was easy in moments like this, with Bellatrix’s arm around her waist and a friendly banter between them, to forget that she was anything less than Bellatrix’s date.

There were other muggleborns at the party though, and their presence kept Hermione centered in the grim reality of their world. None of the other muggleborns stood as close to their Death Eater as Hermione stood to Bellatrix. One muggleborn - a young man who Hermione knew belonged to a Death Eater named McCray - was left kneeling beside a group of party goers, his head bowed as a sign of humility. Another - a witch whose Master Hermione did not know - was walking three paces behind her Master, a magical chain linking from a gag in her mouth to the Death Eater’s wand.

Years ago, Bellatrix had told Hermione that because Bellatrix was above the other Death Eaters in ranking (outranked only by the Dark Lord himself, Bellatrix had proudly declared at the time) Hermione should consider herself to be above the other muggleborns. Hermione, knowing better than to place human beings into such categories, didn’t agree with the view. On nights like tonight though, it was easy to understand why one might.

“Aunty! Mione!” A very excited Teddy interrupted Hermione’s thoughts, crashing into her and Bella’s waists with a hug. His hair was bright green today, matching the bowtie Tibsey had prepared for him.

“Merlin, boy, settle down,” Bella complained, though Hermione could see her smiling as Teddy hugged the duo.

“This is the best day ever!” He exclaimed, pulling away from them.

“Have you made any new friends?” Hermione asked, hoping he had used the party as a chance to meet some children besides his dreadful younger cousin, Scorpius.

“Not really. Everyone my age seems a bit annoying. But that’s okay, I don’t mind. Today is so much fun!”

Hermione frowned. She minded.

“Don’t pay Hermione any attention, boy.” Bellatrix chirped. “You don’t need friends. I doubt any of these brats will be as talented as you, anyway.”

Hermione bit her tongue to keep herself quiet. Bellatrix’s parenting was a constant concern of hers. Teddy, for his part though, had turned out to be a generally kind and normal boy, despite his aunt’s questionable teachings.

“Can we open the presents now, Aunty?” He asked, eyes wide as he waited for Bellatrix’s permission.

“I suppose. Find an elf and have it gather the children in the dining hall. I expect it’ll do your peers some good to see you as the center of attention.”

“Really, Bella?” Hermione asked, exasperated. Sometimes Bellatrix made it impossible for her to hold her tongue.

“Yes, really. Those little brats need to know that our nephew has plenty of resources at his disposal. Reputation starts young, Hermione, and it’s everything.”

_ Our nephew. _She swore Bellatrix forgot they were Mistress-and-Mudblood, not Wife-and-Wife.

“Thanks Aunty!” Teddy rushed away from them as quickly as he had appeared, the bright green of his hair disappearing between bodies as he presumably made his way to the nearest elf.

“I can’t believe he’s eleven,” Hermione said after a moment. It felt like yesterday when he had arrived in their foyer, accompanied by Umbridge and a group of unknown Death Eaters, bearing the news that Andromeda was dead and Teddy had been successfully ‘rescued’.

“I can’t believe I actually like the bugger.” Bellatrix’s solemn tone almost made Hermione spit out her wine. After swallowing, Hermione let out a small chuckle. If she was being honest, Hermione could hardly believe it either.

“Shall we join him in the dining room? I’d like to be there while he opens his gifts.” Hermione proposed, an image of Teddy excitedly opening his brand new copy of _ Hogwarts: A History _playing out in her mind’s eye.

Bellatrix shook her head. “I have other business to attend to while I have these gits gathered together, unfortunately. But you go ahead, pet. Be a good girl for me, and support our boy. I trust you won’t get into too much trouble.”

“Not too much,” Hermione agreed, a smirk making its way across her lips. While she would never do anything to intentionally cause Bellatrix trouble, Hermione found herself immediately fantasizing of all the important conversations she might overhear for her journal, without having to worry about Bellatrix distracting her.

“Have fun, pet.”

And with that, Hermione was left by herself, revelling in the newfound freedom of being alone in a room full of people.


	5. Eight Years Earlier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: Explicit Master/slave dynamic. Gaslighting, Mind Games, Mental Abuse, etc.

**December 7th, 2001**

“Sit with me, pet.” Bellatrix instructed. She was sprawled across an elegant and lengthy chaise in the mansion’s library, lounging in a way that left very little space for anyone else to sit on the short sofa. Hermione, who had been cleaning the room while Bellatrix observed her, immediately tried to do as she was told and sat on the edge of the furniture. Bellatrix frowned; the girl was annoyingly obedient.

When the Dark Lord first offered Bellatrix a mudblood in recognition of her service, Bellatrix had been elated. Any gift from her Lord would’ve been an extraordinary honour, but to be given a _ pet _ , a _ plaything _… Bellatrix wasn’t sure anything could top such a wonderful delight.

She could’ve chosen any of the mudbloods rotting away in Azkaban, should they have been so lucky as to have piqued her interest. Unfortunately for them, Bellatrix had known from the moment the Dark Lord bestowed his gift on her which filthy creature she wanted. It had to be _ the girl _, the one that fluttered around with Potter and the blood traitors as if she were their equal. The one with intelligence and arrogance that should’ve been reserved for the most noble of Purebloods.

When Bellatrix first brought Hermione Granger into her home one month ago, the girl was not the pet she had expected. Quiet, demure, and obedient, Bellatrix was worried that Azkaban had broken her. The girl didn’t flinch at Bellatrix’s advances like she had during the war, and she didn’t fight back when Bellatrix barked deranged orders at her.

It was annoying, to say the least, how obedient her new pet was. While Bellatrix fancied the _idea_ of having an obedient slave, she wanted to _ earn _ that obedience. She wanted Hermione’s actions to be a direct result of her own methods, not caused by the girl's broken spirit.

And so, Bellatrix plotted. She talked aloud to herself, to Cissy, and to anyone else who was worthy of her presence, about her plan to rebuild Hermione’s morale, and then to absolutely break the girl until she was the perfect slave. The fantasy of repeatedly torturing Hermione to the brink of insanity was a fun one, but for now Bellatrix needed to bring back the fiery filth that had originally piqued her interest during the war. After all - what fun was a broken toy?

“Why so far away, Muddy?” Bellatrix asked. “I don’t bite, you know. Or at least, I won’t right now.”

“Sorry, Mistress.” Hermione inched slightly closer, her body stiff and alert. Though Bellatrix wished Hermione was more fun to play with, she did find some enjoyment in the way her pet always seemed to be on edge. It was endearing, in a mudbloody-sort-of-way.

“I only want some company. Surely you can pay me a little attention after all that I’ve done for you.”

“What kind of attention?” Hermione sounded skeptical, making Bella cackle with glee. The mudblood’s worry was adorable.

“Depends, pet. Would you rather use your mouth or your hands?”

Hermione blanched.

“Pick, Muddy, or I’ll pick something far worse!”

“Mouth.”

Bellatrix laughed once more, surprised by the response. Was the mudblood keen to taste her? Or was she too stupid to understand Bellatrix’s innuendo?

“Interesting choice. I didn’t peg you as that kind of trollop, pet.”

Hermione flushed. Yes, Bellatrix thought, she understood.

“I’d rather neither, but I suppose that’s not an option, is it?” The mudblood sounded indignant, her fleeting attitude happily tickling Bellatrix’s ears.

“Oh, definitely not, Muddy. I don’t want my little _pet_ to be neglectful to her Mistress. I’ve housed, clothed, and fed you. You owe me a month’s worth of gratitude by now. It’s only good manners, love.”

Bellatrix could practically see the wheels in Hermione’s mind turning. The young woman was straight faced, but her eyes darted around the room, as if looking for an escape.

“Yes, Mistress.” She said finally, grabbing the hem of Bellatrix’s robe and slowly lifting it upwards.

“_WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING _ ?” Bellatrix hollered the moment Hermione’s fingers made contact with her robe. Though she was inwardly thrilled at her pet's willingness, fawning outrage was far more fun. “_HOW DARE YOU TOUCH ME! YOU STUPID, STUPID GIRL! _”

Hermione’s eyes were wide as she pulled away. “I - You said - I thought -”

“You thought what, puppet? That I was going to let your filthy hands or mouth touch me?” Bellatrix laughed. Such fun. “That’s an honour you need to earn, you entitled brat.”

“I’m sorry, Mistress. I misunderstood. When you called me a trollop I thought --”

“How dare you presume I care what you _thought_!" Bellatrix gave in to the joy she was feeling, cackling wildly as if Hermione had just told the most hilarious joke. “I don’t give a damn what you think, you filthy little girl.”

Hermione didn’t reply. Bellatrix imagined she was planning her next move, but Bella had zero intentions of giving her time to think.

“I want you to use that fiflthy mouth to _read_ to me, you stupid girl.”

“That doesn’t - what if I had chosen ‘hands’?” Hermione clearly didn’t believe her. Bellatrix didn't blame her.

“Perhaps it would’ve been my hands on you. Guess we’ll never know now that you’ve shown what an entitled little slut you are, wanting to _taste_ me.”

Bellatrix relished in how uncomfortable Hermione looked. It was a pretty sight, the mudblood with her flushed cheeks and furrowed brow. Bellatrix imagined her pet was likely more embarrassed by her own ‘presumptions’ than by Bellatrix’s display of disgust and dominance.

“Your blood isn’t the only dirty thing about you, I see.” Bellatrix howled at her own joke. She so enjoyed teasing.

Flicking her wand, Bellatrix summoned a copy of Sinstra Lowe’s _ The Muggle Conspiracy _ to Hermione’s hands. It was a large book, containing many of the essays and articles that Bellatrix had grown up reading. The author, Sinstra Lowe, had been a friend of Bellatrix’s father.

“Read, pet.” She said, leaning back in the chaise and resting her feet, downed in heavy black boots, on Hermione’s lap. Hermione paid Bellatrix’s offending appendage no mind and instead opened the book she had been given.

“_ Chapter One: Understanding Muggle Minds. For centuries, scholars have theorized that the magical composition of a wizard’s inner mind greatly differs from the more basic and simple make-up of a muggle’s …” _Hermione read the book beautifully, her voice soft and proper. It was relaxing, Bellatrix thought, listening to the girl narrate such wonderful information. She enjoyed it for a few more seconds, allowing Hermione to reach the end of the second page, before growing bored.

“Are you cold today, puppet?”

“Er -- no, Mistress.” Hermione looked confused by Bellatrix’s sudden interruption.

“Good. Stand up, then.”

Bellatrix knew she shouldn’t do what she was about to do if she wanted to rebuild Hermione's spirit, but patience had never been Bella's strong suit. The temptation of having an obedient toy at her disposal was an unfair test of her self-restraint.

“Undress, pet.”

Hermione’s already-wide eyes seemed to grow wider, which surprised Bellatrix. Surely after offering her mouth the girl must’ve expected some sort of sexual attention. Of course, Bellatrix reminded herself, she did come from muggle scum, and muggles were notoriously stupid creatures.

“_Now _, pet.”

“Everything?”

“No, just your socks,” Bellatrix's reply was thick with sarcasm. “Yes, _ everything _. And do it quickly. I’m bored.”

Hermione did as she was told, first removing a grey cardigan before shyly pulling her baggy, black robe over her head. Bellatrix had intentionally not given the girl any undergarments; There was simply no point in giving a pet something as useless as a pair of knickers. In fact, the robes themselves were more than what Bellatrix had initially intended to give the girl, but she quickly realized that she’d have an easier time with her plan to rebuild the mudblood if Hermione was at least somewhat comfortable while under Bellatrix’s care.

“Are you daft?” Bellatrix asked as Hermione awkwardly tried to cover her exposed body with her hands. “Hands behind your back pet. I want to _ look._”

Hermione obeyed, much to Bellatrix’s annoyance and pleasure. She wanted an excuse to punish her pet, but also wasn’t going to complain about the view. Bellatrix momentarily shifted her gaze from Hermione’s slim frame to her face, expecting to see saucer-sized eyes staring back at her. Instead, Hermione’s eyes were scrunched closed.

The girl was _ so _boring. Bellatrix considered pushing her down to the ground right there - fucking Hermione would surely liven things up - but she knew doing so would entirely undermine her own plans for her pet. 

“Be a good girl and crawl to your Mistress, Muddy.” Bellatrix cooed. If she couldn’t fuck her, Bellatrix would at least take advantage of the view.

Hermione’s eyes popped open as she folded onto her hands and knees. Without further instruction she crawled towards Bellatrix. Bellatrix licked her lips; all she could see of her pet was a mess of frizzy hair and small breasts moving towards her.

“Not bad, Muddy. You’re going to have to work on your form next time though. Every decent pet knows it’s _ ass _ up, _ head _ down.”

Hermione no longer seemed to be her quick-witted and obedient self, taking a moment longer than usual to reply.

“S-sorry Mistress,” She said, her words shakey. Was the girl upset about being naked? Bellatrix scoffed. What a stupid pet she was. Bellatrix had never seen such gentle and toned curves before. If anything the pet should be ashamed that she had spent so long covering her body up with useless fabric.

Bellatrix didn’t bother to respond. She was too busy examining Hermione’s delicious figure.

“We have reading to do, pet,” She said after a few minutes of silently staring at her toy. “You’re going to need to be a good girl so I can enjoy the view though.”

“What do you want me to do? I’m already completely exposed.” There was a hint of frustration to Hermione’s tone, as if Bellatrix’s implication that she could be doing better was impossible.

“You can lie down.” Bellatrix said simply. She flicked her wand before Hermione could respond, elevating the girl’s body into the air by her ankle, courtesy of a nonverbal _ levicorpus._ Her wand directed Hermione’s helpless body onto the chaise that Bellatrix had remained seated upon. She purposely placed Hermione’s head on her lap, leaving the rest of her body to lay across the length of the furniture. Her pet looked absolutely perfect; head propped up on her MIstress’s thigh, her cheeks rosy with embarrassment, and her soft skin on display for Bellatrix’s amusement.

“Isn’t this nice, pet? Just some Muddy-and-Mistress time! Be a good girl and thank me.”

“Thank you, Mistress.” Hermione said, taking a deep breath. Bellatrix could feel her body relaxing. She guessed the girl was finally realizing it wasn’t that bad to be on display for her Mistress.

“Say it like you _mean_ it, pet.”

“Thank you Mistress Bellatrix for not hurting me today, and giving me such a nice afternoon. I’m thankful.” Hermione obeyed. Surprisingly, Bellatrix believed her.

“Good girl,” Bella praised. “Though you’re still thinking foolishly. I would never _ hurt _ you, pet. Pain is just one thing I use to _ teach _you. There's a difference, Muddy.” 

One hand lazily playing with Hermione’s hair, Bellatrix used her free fingers to flick Hermione’s forehead, illustrating her point. While she might inflict some pain on the mudblood Bellatrix didn't believe she was actually _ hurting _ her. Not _yet_, anyway. 

“Now grab the book and finish the chapter before I get bored again."

Hermione obediently followed Bellatrix's words, returning to her earlier narration about why muggle minds are inferior to wizard's. It was much more amusing to listen to the pet read while looking at her naked body, Bellatrix noted.

"Pay attention, pet." Bellatrix interrupted one final time, her hands mindlessly massaging Hermione's scalp as she spoke. "You could learn something useful from this.”


	6. Current Day

**April 21, 2009**

Teddy wasn’t nearly as excited to receive _ Hogwarts, A History _ as Hermione had been when she was a girl. Though he smiled and thanked her for the present, it did not ignite the same level of joy as his brand new _ Thunderbolt VII _. The broom, which was said to be the fastest on the market, had been a gift from Narcissa.

“Isn’t it cool? Do you think I’ll make the quidditch team?” Teddy was practically jumping as he held the gift up, showing it off to Hermione and the room full of children who had gathered to watch him unwrap his presents.

Hermione smiled, decidedly not commenting on the unlikeliness of a first-year student making the quidditch team, nor commenting on the two students she knew who had been exceptions to that generalization.

“I helped pick it out!” Scorpius was standing next to Teddy, giggling with excitement as they examined the broomstick together. “Father and Grandfather even said they’d show you how to fly if you ask!”

Hermione bit back a laugh this time, knowing all too well that Bellatrix would prefer Teddy go broomless than for Draco or Lucius to teach him how to fly. Bellatrix was, afterall, a very talented witch and more than adequate at flying. Hermione imagined her Mistress would likely offer to teach Teddy herself.

“Wicked!” Teddy grinned to his younger cousin. As much as Hermione disliked Scorpius’ often antagonizing behaviour, she appreciated how close him and Teddy were. It was nice to see Teddy have a relationship with someone besides her or Bellatrix.

Teddy grabbed another parcel - one Hermione knew contained a set of Gobstones - and made quick time in unwrapping it. He was shining in the attention, full of confidence and enthusiasm. His hair had turned bright pink at some point while opening gifts, reminding Hermione of Tonks. She wondered if the deceased witch would be proud of how she and Bella were raising him.

“Excuse me, Miss!” A squeaky voice interrupted Hermione’s reverie.

“Yes?” Hermione answered, looking to the small house-elf who had suddenly apparated before her. The elf was not one Hermione recognized, meaning he likely came from another Pureblood home as Bellatrix had arranged to borrow a number of elves to cater the party.

“Are you Miss Granger, Ma’am?” The elf squeaked, urgency tracing his words. “Crowser has an important message for Miss Granger!”

The use of Hermione’s name surprised her. Even Tibsy, the sweet-mannered house-elf who served in her own home, called her ‘the pet’ or ‘the mudblood’. 

“I am,” Hermione replied cautiously. What would Bellatrix, or even Teddy, think if they heard her answer to Miss _Granger_? The use of her surname implied independence and separation from the house of Black, two things Hermione hadn’t experienced in years. Luckily Bellatrix was busy entertaining Death Eaters in the next room, and Teddy was too absorbed in his gifts to pay Hermione any attention.

“Crowser’s Mistress would like to see Miss Granger in Diagon Alley!”

“Your Mistress?” Hermione was at a loss. Whose elf was this? And why, in Merlin’s name, would anyone at this party want to see _ her _ in Diagon Alley?

“Yes, Miss. Crowser’s Mistress told Crowser not to say anything revealing, less there be trouble from the others!” Crowser motioned to the other elves and children who were moving about the dining room.

“Does your Mistress know that I can’t leave the ground without Bellatrix’s permission?” Hermione leaned in towards Crowser, her words a whisper. She knew it was impossible for the elf to give her further information if his Mistress instructed him not to, but she was still eager to see what she could learn from him.

“Crowser is sorry, Miss Granger. Croswer must obey his Mistress and give Miss Granger the message and nothing more!” Crowser bowed and backed away from Hermione, walking backwards until hevanished from Hermione’s line of sight, blending in with the crowd of children in the room.

Hermione’s stomach turned. What kind of person would pass on such a message? Her mind quickly flooded with ideas. Was Bella plotting something? Testing her? Could it be an old friend, from the Order or Dumbledore’s Army, reaching out? Or perhaps an enemy of Bellatrix’s, trying to lure Hermione into danger? Whoever it was would be thoroughly disappointed, Hermione was certain, as Bellatrix would never allow Hermione to freely leave Black Manor.

_ Unless… _

“Teddy!” Hermione called out. He was no longer opening presents, but instead playing Gobstones with Scorpius and two Death Eater children Hermione didn’t recognize.

He immediately stood at the sound of his name, wandering across the room to Hermione with a grin.

“Are you enjoying yourself, love?” She asked, wrapping an arm around his shoulder in greeting. _ I’m sorry Tonks, _ she thought, already feeling pangs of guilt for her plan to use the boy.

“Oh yeah! Rachel said this is the best party she’s ever been to. You and Aunty are my heroes!”

“I’m so glad. We’re both very proud of you, you know.”

“Thanks, ‘Mione. I’m pretty proud of me too!”

Hermione rolled her eyes. He was so cheeky; Definitely Bellatrix's nephew.

“Did you get many books as presents?" She asked, changing the subject. "t’s important that you get a head start before classes in September, you know."

“No,” Teddy said, looking back at the pile of gifts. He sounded a bit dumbfounded, as if he hadn’t considered that textbooks might be important for his upcoming term at Hogwarts.

“Do you think Aunty will let me buy them early? I'm going to Diagon this weekend with Tibsey, anyway.”

“You’re going with _Tibsey_? To _Diagon Alley_?” Hermione’s plan to manipulate Teddy into asking Bellatrix if she could go to Diagon Alley on his behalf was forgotten in a matter of seconds. These damned Purebloods and their reliance on house-elves, she thought. What if Teddy encountered a less than friendly wizard while shopping? Tibsey was a wonderful elf, but she wouldn’t be able to defend Teddy against an angry Death Eater, or a spurned half-blood trying to kidnap him to get back at Bella, or… a thousand dangers ran through Hermione’s mind, none of which were pleasant to think about. “That’s absurd. Diagon Alley is no place for a boy and a house elf. Perhaps I can take you.”

“Wicked!” Teddy seemed thrilled with that idea. “Does that mean I can, uh, go back to Gobstones? No offence but I don’t get to hang out with the other kids very often.”

“Of course, love. Enjoy yourself! It’s your party!” Hermione, after all, had work to do.

\--

“Absolutely not!”

Bellatrix and Hermione stood across from each other in the ballroom. The guests were gone now, replaced by a collection of House Elves who were cleaning the mess; the once lively music was replaced with Bellatrix and Hermione’s heated words.

“You’re being ridiculous! You always talk about how stupid House Elves are, yet you’re trusting one over me to take Teddy shopping?! You can’t be serious about this, Bella!”

This wasn’t how Hermione imagined her plan would go. She had been hoping to sweeten Bellatrix’s mood with the witch’s favourite _activities _before prompting Teddy to ask them both for Hermione to escort him to Diagon Alley as a birthday treat. Unfortunately for her _and_ Bellatrix, Hermione was far too outraged with Bellatrix’s nonchalant approach to Teddy’s safety to follow through with her ploy.

“Do you really think walking around Diagon Alley with a Mudblood is going to protect him? Don’t be stupid - at least the elf can do magic!” Bellatrix was fuming, casually throwing hexes at random House Elves as she paced the room.

“And whose fault is it that I can’t?”

“Don’t you dare blame your blood status on _ me_! _ Me, _who spent hours shifting through miserable muggle records in hopes of finding some sort of magic in your line! ”

“My blood status doesn’t prevent me from doing magic! It’s my lack of wand that does!”

“And I suppose you’d have the boy show up at Hogwarts blabbering on about how the Mudblood in his house has a wand?” Bellatrix sent a flick of electric sparks at Hermione now, who yelped more out of surprise than pain.

“Do you want to get us all thrown into Azkaban, pet?” Bellatrix yelled. She was circling Hermione now, her pacing becoming more confined with each step. “Do you still hate me, after all these years, and wish to see me suffer? Is that it?”

“No, you idiot! I’m saying this because I _love _Teddy and I want him to be _safe_!”

Bellatrix ignored her, sending another series of sparks her way.

“Will you stop doing that?!” Hermione roared. She had no patience for Bellatrix's games right now.

Bellatrix responded by sending a third round of sparks at her. “Not until you shut up and listen to me! Sit down and shut your mouth before I do it for you!”

Hermione huffed but sat down in a nearby chair. She knew there was no point in fighting with Bellatrix, not when the witch technically owned her.

“Fine. Go right ahead and enlighten me as to why a creature you despise is more trustworthy than I am.” Hermione crossed her arms and leaned back into the chair, eyes locked onto Bellatrix.

Bellatrix stepped closer to her, removing the space that had been between them, to hover angrily over Hermione's chair. 

“_Think_ about it, pet.” She said, standing over Hermione in a way that made the younger witch feel like a child receiving a lecture. “If one of the Death Eaters recognized you - which they all would, considering I _ frequently _remind them that I own the most attractive Mudblood of the lot - you’d be sent straight to Azkaban for being out without a Pureblood.

“Second, if anyone did try to harm Teddy - which no one would, since it’s common knowledge that he’s a member of _ my _ household - you’d be useless in defending him without a wand. _ Which, _before you get haughty about it, is not something I can just give you for the day without the pair of us ending up in Azkaban.

"So unless you’re suddenly plotting to have me thrown back into prison and willing to sacrifice your station in the process, I suggest you get this stupid idea out of your pretty little head.”

Bellatrix flicked Hermione’s forehead for emphasis.

“I’m not trying to plot against you,” Hermione said finally, knowing Bellatrix was right. It was a frustrating reality, but one that she could possibly work around. She just needed to find a way to convince Bella to let her leave the Manor for a single day... “I just don’t like the idea of Teddy and Tibsey wandering around Diagon Alley by themselves. I trust Tibsey, but people are so cruel to House-Elves, and Teddy only just turned eleven…”

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to think of a way to end the argument without giving up completely. It was not every day a House Elf showed up with a message for her, and Hermione had not intentions of conceding to Bellatrix's stupid rules.

“I’ll take the boy, then. Surely you trust _ I _ can take care of him?” Bellatrix was calming down. While she still sounded annoyed the anger had fled from her face.

Hermione didn’t say anything, but instead stood up so that she was face to face with Bella. Her head was aching from their argument, and she felt drained from the number of hexes Bellatrix had directed at her.

Bellatrix responded to Hermione's movement without hesitation, pulling Hermione inwards and wrapping her arms around her. Hermione welcomed the familiarity of the embrace. Bellatrix pressed a hand to her head and held her in a way that almost made Hermione forget about House Elves and secret messages. _ Almost. _

“I hate that I can’t go with you two. I want to be there for Teddy. It's a big year for him. Of course, I know there are things you can't control, but… I suppose I just wish I could have some of the privileges that you and Teddy do.” 

Bellatrix stroked Hermione’s hair for a moment. Hermione wasn’t sure if Bella would respond the way she wanted or not, but she had to try.

"Don't ever think I can't control something where you're concerned," Bellatrix broke the silence with a coy tone, her fingers tracing their way down Hermione’s cheek as she spoke. "Will you be a good pet if I take you with us?”

Hermione held back a squeal, opting to tighten her arms around Bella's waist instead.

“I’m _always_ a good pet for you, Bella,” Hermione said, trying to hide her excitement by speaking in a flirtatious tone. 

Bellatrix laughed. “What a little liar you are when you want something!” She tucked Hermione’s hair behind her ear, bending in to nibble at Hermione’s neck.

“Mm - I think I’m an -mm - excellent pet!” Hermione said between small moans, enjoying the feeling of Bellatrix’s mouth on her skin.

“Because you don’t have to put up with you!” Bellatrix replied after biting down hard. Hermione yelped in surprise before glaring at her.

“I’m going to have you wear your collar, you know. And leash. We can’t have someone trying to snatch you from me.”

Hermione nodded. She hadn’t expected anything less from Bella.

“Whatever you want, Bella.” Hermione said, knowing that any conditions she had to put up with would be well worth it. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all of the lovely feedback thus far! I'm not thrilled with the pacing of the most recent chapters (5 & 6, per this update) but I'm excited to finally jump into the plot :)


	7. Eight Years Earlier

**December 13th, 2001**

The last few days were simultaneously the best and worst Hermione had experienced since Azkaban. While Bellatrix had stopped casting _ Crucio _ every other hour, Hermione noticed that the Death Eater was becoming more and more unpredictable. Just this morning Bellatrix had invited Hermione to join her at the breakfast table for a delicious pudding, only to decide a few minutes later that Hermione was too dirty to eat with her, ultimately forcing Hermione to eat Bellatrix’s scraps off the floor. Then Bellatrix directed Hermione to crawl around the house for ‘exercise’ before inviting her into Bellatrix’s very own bed for a ‘well deserved nap’. 

Hermione was beginning to get whiplash from the Death Eater’s continuous shift from kind to evil. It was a continuous series of ups and downs, and Hermione was unsure how it was going to end. Even now, as she lay in the luxurious bed couldn’t relax. Bellatrix was sleeping beside Hermione, her every movement, no matter how small, making Hermione flinch.

“Stay back--” Bellatrix murmured in her sleep. She had been sleep-talking for the past 30 minutes between snores. Hermione wondered if Bellatrix also had dreams of Azkaban and the Dementors.

In a distant corner of the room, rain pounded onto the stain-glass window. It was only mid-afternoon, yet the skies outside were dark from the storm that brewed overhead. The flames in the fireplace cackled, Thunder roared and the rain drops on the window became louder, sounding as if the rain had transformed from water to hail.

The tapping on the window seemed to have no effect on Bellatrix however, as she continued to let out a series of tiny snores. If she wasn’t so terribly _evil_, Hermione might have thought her sweet. She was laying on her back, her head tilted towards Hermione in a particularly vulnerable position, with black curls spread across the pillow. Hermione thought that now would be the perfect moment to exact revenge against the Death Eater and make a run for freedom, except Hermione was magically bound in position - her ankles pressed together with invisible ropes, and her arms stuck to her sides in a similar fashion.

As Bellatrix continued to a snore, she breathed out “Fucking Dementor_ ”. _ Hermione frowned. She hated Bellatrix more than she had ever hated another human being before, but she still didn’t like to see the older witch suffer. Perhaps that was the difference between them, Hermione thought; While they both hated each other Hermione would never stoop so low as to enjoy Bellatrix’s pain. 

“Bellatrix,” Hermione said as the witch began to thrash in her sleep, clearly having a bad dream. “You’re having a nightmare, wake up.”

Bellatrix immediately sprang upwards. Half-awake she reached into her brassiere and pulled out her wand, pointing it at Hermione. It seemed to take Bellatrix a moment to realize what was happening, for after a second she relaxed and returned her wand to it’s rest place against her chest.

“For your sake I hope you waking me up was a part of my dream,” Bellatrix said, eyes staring icily at Hermione.

Hermione didn’t say anything. She felt incredibly stupid for not thinking through her earlier action. What did it matter to her if Bellatrix was having a nightmare? At least if Bellatrix was sleeping she wouldn’t have to worry about being put through some ridiculous punishment.

“You were having a nightmare.”

“Yes, I know. It started off delightful - I had you strung upside down and was carving some pretty etchings onto your skin. But then your muddy blood got onto my robes. It was _ tragic _.”

Hermione ignored her. They both knew full well that Bellatrix was lying.

“What? I share my bed with you and I don’t even get a good morning?” Bellatrix’s mood seemed to shift from annoyed to playful in a matter of seconds, causing Hermione to breathe a sigh of relief. “You’re so ungrateful, Muddy.”

“May I get up, Mistress?” Hermione hoped her Mistress’s sudden good mood would give Hermione the freedom to move her arms and legs again.

“I suppose.”

Hermione’s ankles immediately separated, and her arms relaxed by her sides. She stretched outwards, her limbs sprawling so that she looked like a star on Bellatrix’s bed. It felt good to have her full range of motion again.

“Thank you.”

Bellatrix eyed her carefully.

“What do you _ think _ you heard, Muddy?” She asked after a moment.

Hermione froze. Bellatrix sounded scared. What did the witch think she had said during her sleep?

“You talked about the dementors. I don’t blame you, you know. I dream about Azkaban too sometimes.”

Bellatrix’s glare hardened. She gritted her teeth in a way that told Hermione her mood had returned to angry.

“You dare presume that you’re like me?” Bellatrix snarled. It truly felt like whip-lash, the back-and-forth of the older witch’s emotional state. “I told you, I was dreaming of _ tormenting you, _ pet _ . _Are you calling me a liar?”

Hermione shook her head. “I must've misheard,” She said quickly, trying to back-track on her earlier mistake.

“Stupid Mudblood.”

Bellatrix’s wand was in her hand again, and before Hermione knew it she was being levitated out of the bed, her entire body floating across the bedroom until she was violently slammed into the opposite wall. She fell to the floor, her body aching in a way that made it impossible to move.

“_ Up _, pet.” Bellatrix called out, moving away from the bed and walking towards Hermione. There was impatience in her voice.

Hermione stumbled to her feet, her back throbbing. Another flick of Bellatrix’s wand and Hermione found herself pushed back up against the wall, this time levitating only a few inches above the ground. With a twist of Bellatrix’s wand, Hermione’s legs and arms spread outwards, leaving her in a less-than-comfortable spreadeagle position against the wall.

Hermione closed her eyes, focusing in on the roaring crackle of the fireplace beside her, hoping that Bellatrix would be satisfied with leaving Hermione in this position so that no further harm would come to her,

Of course, that was a naive hope. When Hermione opened her eyes again Bellatrix was only inches away from her, a small silver knife in her hand.

“Let’s see if you can make my dreams come true, hmm, Muddy?”

Bellatrix ran the tip of the knife down Hermione’s cheek, stopping to poke it lightly under her chin. For the first time since being taken in by Bellatrix, Hermione found herself scared for her life. Was the Death Eater finally going to kill her?

“Bella, is that you? Are you there Bella?” An unfamiliar voice filled the bedroom, causing both Hermione and Bellatrix to freeze.

“Damn it Bella, I just heard your voice. I know you there.” The voice - likely a woman’s, Hermione thought - seemed to be coming from the fireplace.

“For fuck sake, Cissy!” Bellatrix screeched. She lowered the knife and walked backwards to look into the fireplace that jetted out from the wall beside Hermione. “I’m not a fucking House Elf. I can’t appear whenever you want me to.”

“_ You _ told me to floo you this afternoon!” The ‘Cissy’ woman’s voice replied. She sounded hauntingly familiar, but Hermione’s view of the fire was blocked by her position against the wall. She leaned forward and craned her head in an attempt to see who was in the flames, but it was useless. Bellatrix’s spell left her pinned hopelessly against the wall, with no direct view of the fire.

“Well that’s your fault for believing me, isn’t it? Honestly Narcissa, you’re almost as daft as that husband of yours.”

_ Narcissa _. That made sense. Hermione should’ve realized that the only person who would floo Bellatrix was her sister. She doubted the Death Eater had any real friends.

“I don’t want to hear it, Bella.”

“Well I don’t want your head in my fireplace, but here we are! Besides, I’m _ busy. _”

“Doing what?” Narcissa asked. “Spoiling your new little _ mudblood _ with affection?”

Spoiling with _ affection? _Hermione scoffed to herself. Narcissa clearly didn’t know her sister very well.

“I’m _ playing _ with my toy right now, actually.” 

“Torturing the girl isn’t going to win her over, you know. _ If _that’s still your plan, anyway.” Narcissa replied.

Hermione would’ve been sure she had misheard Narcissa if she hadn’t seen the look of panic on Bellatrix’s face at the words. Bellatrix glowered at the fireplace before swiftly flicking her wand at Hermione. The sounds of the room disappeared. No longer could Hermione hear the cackling of the fire, the hail on the window, or the sisters talking. Bellatrix had deafened her.

She watched, sick to her stomach with dread, as Bellatrix’s mouth moved. She tried to follow what the older witch was saying, but Hermione had never learned to lip-read. She was at a complete loss as to what was happening, though one thing was clear: Bellatrix didn’t want Hermione to know that she had plans to ‘win her over’, apparently.

It didn’t make sense, Hermione thought. Bellatrix literally _ owned _her; there was nothing to be won. 

The puzzling words did at least provide some clarity about the rollercoaster Hermione had experienced this week. Bellatrix’s bizarre orders now made more sense - for whatever reason, the Death Eater was trying (albeit, failing miserably) to be kind to her.

Hermione watched Bellatrix pace in front of the fire. For a moment Bellatrix looked genuinely happy, a playful smile on her lips as she laughed. Hermione wondered what Narcissa had said to earn such a reaction from the usually irate woman. No sooner than Hermione could ponder the possibilities of what would make Bellatrix happy, the older witch looked furious again. She was shouting at the fireplace. Hermione desperately wished she could hear what was being said.

After a few more minutes of yelling, Bellatrix turned her attention to Hermione. She crooked her head at her captive before mouthing a word that looked a lot like “BYE”. Hermione stared back in shock. Surely Bellatrix wasn’t going to leave her alone, pinned to a wall and unable to hear…

As if determined to live up to Hermione's thoughts, Bellatrix laughed and waved a hand in farewell before disapparating from the room.

\--

Hermione wasn’t sure how long she had been pinned to the wall. The glow of the fire place had vanished what felt like hours ago, and through the bedroom window she could see a starry sky. It had been mid-afternoon when Bellatrix first placed Hermione against the wall, and the unnatural position was beginning to take its toll. Her body was aching, her arms desperately wanting relief from their outright position. 

She considered her options. As much as she was currently trapped, Hermione knew that she eventually needed to find a way out of Bellatrix’s clutches. Living in Black Manor as Bellatrix’s ‘pet’ was not sustainable. If she was being honest with herself, she doubted she would survive until the new year. Hermione needed to escape, and she needed to do it soon; every day she spent as Bellatrix’s toy was a day closer to losing her own mind.

Scenes of masterful escapes filled her mind. In her mind’s eye she envisioned herself and Tibsey fleeing the manor, Tibsey wrapped in Bellatrix’s cloak and Hermione holding the witch’s wand. It was a beautiful scene, however unlikely.

Hermione never knew whether or not she had actually fallen asleep - her fantasy of escape might very well have turned into an actual dream - all she knew was that quite suddenly she was being violently shaken by none other than Narcissa Malfoy.

Narcissa was clutching Hermione’s shoulders, wordlessly yelling at her. Bellatrix’s hex was still working though, and Hermione had no idea what Narcissa was saying.

“I can’t hear you!” Hermione tried to reply, hoping Narcissa could understand her. She was uncertain whether or not Bellatrix’s spell prevented her from talking as well. “I don’t know what you’re saying!”

Narcissa looked taken aback for a moment, but quickly flicked her wand. Hermione’s ears buzzed. She could hear again.

“Where does Bella store her keys?”

“What?” Hermione asked, trying to ignore the ringing sound in her ears.

“Where are my sister’s keys? Answer me, girl!” Narcissa, a naturally pale woman, looked whiter than normal as she yelled at Hermione. She was clearly panicked, though Hermione had no idea why.

“I don’t know. I don’t touch her things. You’d have to ask Tibsey!”

Narcissa let out a deep sigh. “The elf isn’t cooperating.” She said. She was making quick work with her wand as she spoke, directing it at Hermione’s feet and then her arms. Within seconds Hermione fell to the ground, finally free of Bellatrix’s enchantments.

“Come,” Narcissa beckoned, heading towards the door of the bedroom. “You’ll have to help me make the elf talk.”

Hermione did not like the sound of that, but grateful to be free, she stood up none the less. Her body was aching, making it difficult to follow Narcissa out of the room.

“What’s happening?” Hermione asked as Narcissa marched down the grand stairwell. She was struggling to keep up.

“I can’t get to Bella’s bezoar collection,” Narcissa replied, half-running as she moved towards the dining room. Hermione followed her, trying her best to keep up. “She keeps them locked in a damn box - only Merlin knows why as it’s an idiotic thing to do. When I summoned them the whole tin came hurling at us. Alohomora won’t open it - she’s got it sealed shut with some charm.”

Luckily for Hermione, her mind was in better shape than her legs. She considered Narcissa’s words, quickly digesting the information presented to her. Bezoars were small stones used as antidotes to most poisons. Why did Narcissa need one? And, better yet, why on earth would Bellatrix keep her collection of antidotes locked up?

As they entered the dining room Hermione’s first question was answered. A very still Bellatrix was sprawled across the dining table, her eyes shut. Her skin was pink and rashy, her lips purple. Tibsey stood beside the table, a small metal tin, which Hermione assumed held the bezoars, in her tiny hands. Tibsey's eyelids were pooling with tears as she looked helplessly at her Mistress's lifeless form.

Bellatrix looked like death. Or at least, very close to it.


End file.
